Untitled
by beatrix-franklin
Summary: An exploration of Patrick in 7x01. I couldn't think of an appropriate title so settled on "Untitled." There is talk of cancer and loss within this fic so please don't read if that will upset you.


Cancer. The sole word that destroys lives. It's intoxicating and all consuming. The pain left behind when it cruelly thieves someone you love of their final breath will always linger. You can try to avoid it, try to bury it and eventually you learn to live with it. But every once in a while, the pain resurfaces its ugly head and finds its way back into your life. Wounds reopen, as fresh as the day they were created, and the healing process must start again.

When Shelagh told Patrick of Mrs Gelin's Cancer her heart dropped at the look that crossed Patrick's face. To anyone else they would have believed that the look was one of dismay, of a Doctor concerned for their patient. But Shelagh saw the way the light was lost from his eyes, and she knew that he was back by Marianne's side, if only for a moment. As quick as the look had crossed his face it was gone and Patrick had gone into his default mode of Doctor and began discussing with Shelagh the various ways in which he would help his patient. Part of Shelagh wanted to stop him, to shake him and tell him to face up to his emotions but in her heart she knew she had to let him deal with this in his own way.

Each time Patrick visited the Gelin's his heart broke. As much as he tried to put his feelings in a box, ready to be opened another day, it was something that was easier said than done. He saw a former version of himself in Mr Gelin. He saw the man that was petrified by the prospect of losing his wife, the man that tried to stay strong and not display this fear and the man who believed his happiness would end when his wife's life did. Patrick wanted to tell Mr Gelin that he would learn to live with the pain and that his wife's spirit would carry him through, but he knew better than anyone that anyo words of wisdom would provide little solace at a time when the only thing you saw when you looked forward was oblivion. The only thing Patrick could do was provide support in the only way he knew would help, by giving Mrs Gelin the medical support she needed so she could be as comfortable as possible in her final days.

On the evening that he got the call to tell him Mrs Gelin had passed he was alone in his surgery. He'd told Nurse Crane to pass on his condolences, hoping she didn't notice the crack in his voice as he spoke. As soon as he had hung up the phone he buried his head in his hands and sobbed in a way that he hadn't done in years.

"I still miss you Marianne," he chocked out. He didn't know who he was talking to, or even why he was talking to an empty office, but he didn't know what else to do. His hands hovered over the phone, aching to ring Shelagh but a glance at the clock changed his mind, it was late and he didn't want to wake Shelagh who had undoubtedly fallen asleep as soon as she had settled Teddy down for the evening. So instead, he took his time finishing his work before eventually making his way to his car.

When he pulled up to the house he was surprised to see the living room light still beaming out the window. He expected and was hoping that the house would be asleep by now. Suddenly he was scared to go inside, how could he seek comfort from his wife when he was still feeling the raw pain of losing his former wife? The car felt safe, it felt isolated, it gave him the comfort he thought he needed. He had no idea how long he'd been sat there when he heard the passenger door open and a sudden chill hit him, but it brought him back to reality.

"Shelagh go back inside you'll freeze out here." As Patrick spoke his voice was flat and his hands still gripped to the steering wheel, he was too scared to look at her incase his resolve broke. He wanted so desperately to reach out to her, just as he had wanted to when she was sat in the same spot as Sister Bernadette, but like then, he just didn't know how.

"Not without you," Shelagh replied determinedly. They'd reached a stalemate. Shelagh wasn't going to move, Patrick didn't know how to talk, and both were too scared to reach out to one another. The silence became deafening.

"Patrick," Shelagh started eventually, "this isn't us, it might have been once, but it isn't now. Don't let the silence form a barrier between us again, whatever it is you can tell me." As she spoke Shelagh shuffled closer to Patrick and placed one hand over his on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry Shelagh," Patrick finally turned to face his wife, the tears that were tracking down his face mirrored her own. "Today I felt like I was transported back to a different time, a time in my life that I don't want to revisit. Watching Mr Gelin with say goodbye to his wife felt too familiar," Shelagh lifted his hand to her lips, planting a gentle kiss on it to encourage him to continue. "I still miss her Shelagh. The pain from the day she left still haunts me. But it shouldn't, because I have you."

"Patrick Turner don't you ever talk like that again," Shelagh surprised herself with her own sternness and softened her tone before continuing. "Don't ever feel guilty about your emotions. The love we felt for someone will always be a part of us. The pain when someone is taken from us is something that will never leave us. Sometimes it's more predominant than others and sometimes we're put in situations which make us feel as if we are experiencing the pain for the first time all over again. But accepting that the pain is there is part of the healing process." Patrick couldn't formulate a response, instead he collapsed into his wife's arms and learned he could always seek support there.

Faith was not something Patrick would ever claim to have but as he lay in bed that evening, holding his wife a little closer than usual, he sent a silent prayer up, thanking God that he was able to find love a second time.


End file.
